Anya and the Lion
by Lady North the Cynical
Summary: a Narnian adaptation of a Russion folk tale. Set during the Golden Age of Narnia.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

_**A/N** - first fanfic etc, be harsh as you like._ _Set during Golden Age of Narnia._

_**Disclaimer: **I damn well wish I owned Narnia, but I don't, and we all know it. In fact, I own pretty much zip of this story so far; it's a Narnian adaptation of a Russian folk tale. _

* * *

The Calormenes built themselves a vast empire through conquests and battles. In their quest for supremacy, they conquered a great many noble peoples such as; the Lithosans, who are descendants of Sarah, the youngest granddaughter of King Frank and Queen Helen; the Mylti tribe, who are prophets and philosophers; and the Sileancians, who are fierce and valiant warriors. Because of this, the edges of their great empire are dotted with annexed provinces in an attempt to keep the conquered peoples in line.

In a province at the North-Western edge of Calormene, there ruled a Tarkaan named Kuddish, who had a face as ugly as a donkey's hindquarters and a disposition to match. His own daughter ran away as soon as she was able, and so he was alone for many years, sitting in a room counting all his money. People called him The Troll.

One day, as Kuddish walked by the creek that flowed by his great house, he came across a little girl. She was fair skinned, for she was Lithosan by blood, and she was weeping. "Girl," said the Tarkaan, in what he imagined was a kindly voice. "Why do you weep?" The little girl jumped up and attempted a curtsy. "My lord," she replied in her sweet voice. "I weep because my parents were killed in a raid, and now I have no one, and no where." The Tarkaan's eyes glinted evilly. The child would make an excellent slave girl. "Then you must come with me, girl," Kuddish said, reaching out for her hand. Anya – for that was the child's name – was fearful, but she could not disobey the Tarkaan, so she took his hand and followed him into his house.

Ten years later, Anya was still living in the house of the Tarkaan. In fact, she had never been outside the walls, which surrounded it. She scrubbed floors, she dusted, she counted roomfuls of gold coins, anything that her master asked. It was difficult work, to be sure, but not impossible. Until, that fateful day, when, just as she had finally scrubbed the dishes clean, she heard the Tarkaan's voice. "Girl! Come here!"

When at last Anya had found him, she found him sneezing uncontrollably in a room filled with feathers. "The merchants made a mistake," Kuddish explained between sneezes. "They sent one tonne of goose feathers, instead of two hundred goose feather pillows. Stuff the feathers into pillow cases by tonight." He turned to go. Anya just stared at the feathers in disbelief. "Oh," Kuddish added as an after thought. "If I find one stray feather, girl, the punishment will be severe!" With that, he left.

Two hours later, poor Anya had hardly stuffed two pillow cases. It was as if the feathers had conspired to leap out of the pillow case as soon as she had stuffed them in. Finally, she cried out "oh it is useless!" and burst into tears. Suddenly a bright light appeared, and a most delicious smell, and there was a lion, there in the room! He was huge, and golden and shining, and he reminded Anya of her childhood, before her parents died. "Why do you cry, my daughter?" the lion asked in a deep, rich, wild voice. "My Lord, I cry because my Master has ordered me to stuff two hundred pillow cases with these feathers by nightfall, and I can barely even fill two." "Come, dear child," the Lion said, his voice making Anya feel completely safe. "You are tired. You must sleep, and then perhaps you shall be able to complete the task when you wake." "But I daren't," Anya cried. "If my Master should return and find me sleeping –" "Sleep, daughter," the lion said again, quietly, gently. And Anya's eyes grew heavy and she thought "perhaps a quick nap would do me good." So she lay down and fell asleep.

She was awoken by the Tarkaan, who kicked her awake. "Get up, girl," he said harshly. Anya started to stand. "My Lord –" she began, about to try to explain why she had not completed her task. But there, stacked neatly against the wall, were two hundred goose feather pillows, newly stuffed.

"What did you do, girl?" Kuddish demanded, gripping Anya's shoulders. "I stuffed the pillows, my Lord, like you asked," Anya replied. "You cheated, didn't you?" Kuddish was turning red in the face. Poor Anya did not get a chance to reply. He threw her to the ground, and began beating her harshly, crying "cheating, lying girl!"

The next day, Anya's back was black and blue from the beating. But Kuddish asked no more impossible tasks of her. For a while, at least. One day, about three months after the feathers incident, Anya had just finished scrubbing the floors, when she heard the Tarkaan cry out "Girl! Come here!" When at last she found him, Kuddish was standing by the pond. "I'm going out," he announced. "I will be back by sundown. When I get back, I want this pond drained. I want it drier than last weeks soup bone." "But…why?" Anya asked. "Don't question my judgement," Kuddish replied, hautily, and marched off.

Anya searched high and low for something to drain the pond with. But the buckets were all broken. All she could find was a soup ladle. But when at last Anya got down to the pond again, she cried out with horror. "Oh no! This ladle is full of holes!" Presently, Anya felt she was being watch, and so she turned around and there – oh joy! The lion was standing there once again, his eyes reflecting all her sorrow. Anya plucked up her courage. " Please, my Lord," she asked hesitantly. "Who are you?" Anya asked, trembling slightly. "Myself," the great lion replied calmly. "But, what do people call you?" Anya pressed. "I am known by a great many names, daughter, but you would not recognise most. I am the one whose heart broke when your parents died, and I am the one who bore your stripes thrice over every time Kuddish beat you."

Anya was stumped by this riddle, and yet, at the same time, it somehow made perfect sense to her. But while she was pondering this, the Lion spoke again. "Anya, you are tired. Lie yourself down, and sleep. Put all your worries out of your head." "But my Lord," Anya protested. "I must drain this entire pond by nightfall, or my Master will beat me again." "Sleep, daughter," the Lion said, and he breathed on her, and once again Anya felt her eyelids become heavy, and so she lay down and fell asleep.

As before, she was awoken by the Tarkaan kicking her. "Get up, girl!" he ordered. Anya immediately stood, and looked about herself. The pond was drained, it was bone dry. "You filthy, cheating girl!" Kuddish cried. "No, my Master," Anya cried, putting up her hand in an attempt to shield herself from the onslaught of Kuddish's fists. "I didn't!" But he did not hear her. Still his fists rained down upon her.

Anya's back was black and blue from the Tarkaan's beatings. But she now took comfort in the Lion's words that he bore her stripes three times over. And she thought long and hard, trying to remember why this lion seemed to be at the edge of all her thoughts, a flash at the beginning and end of every good memory. And the months passed, and Kuddish grew older, fatter, and greedier. And some people say that he began to have a sickness in his mind, for he began ordering Anya to complete all sorts of strange chores, such as planting boiled potatoes, and dusting beneath cabinets.

The chores grew increasingly more peculiar, until one day, Anya heard Kuddish's harsh voice calling "Girl! Come here!" She found him, at last, standing outside the great house, seemingly in deep thought. "Yes, my Master?" she asked with a curtsy. "I am going out of town on business. I will return tomorrow. By then I want you to knock down this unsightly little dwelling and build me a palace, filled with riches enough to live a thousand lifetimes of luxury." Anya was stunned. Such an impossible task! Even if she worked all day and all night, she could never do it! But still, Anya curtsied, and Kuddish left.

When she was quite alone, Anya looked about herself. She looked at her poor, over-worked hands. And the enormity of her situation overwhelmed her, and so she flung herself on the ground to have a good cry. But before she was quite finished, she felt something gently nuzzling her back. When she looked up, she saw it was the Lion. And in her joy, she flung her arms around his neck and comforted herself in his warmth. At last, she heard his rich, powerful voice ask "why are you crying, daughter?" Anya sat up and wiped her tears away. "My Master wants me to build a palace, with riches to fill a thousand lifetimes," she said in a small voice. "Dear Lion, even you cannot help me this time." The Lion growled. "Can I not?" his voice was low, but it shook the earth.

And then Anya became terribly afraid, and she shrunk away from the Lion. "Anya," the Lion said in a much gentler voice. "You were made for so much more than this." He breathed on her, and all Anya's fear left her, and for the moment she forgot her troubles. "What is your name, my Lord?" she asked tentatively. "My name," the Lion said quietly. "Is Aslan." "The God of the Northern lands!" Anya exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought Tash was the only true god." "Nay," Aslan said, in a tone that could almost be a laugh. "Tash is no god at all, but a powerful being gone bad. I am the God of your people, and a great many others." "If you are the true God," Anya said presently. "Then why did you suffer my people, who followed your commands for centuries, to be overpowered by the Calormenes, who clearly do not?" "Anya," Aslan said in a somewhat stern voice. "that is not your story. No one is every told anyone's story other than their own. But come," here, his tone lightened. "You are exhausted. Sleep, dear one." The impossible task came flooding back to Anya. "But, Aslan, Kuddish will –" "Sleep," Aslan said again softly, and so Anya lay down and fell asleep.

As before, Anya did not wake until Kuddish kicked her. "Get up, girl." This time, he said nothing. He took a firm grip of Anya's long blonde hair, and dragged her inside the huge palace which now stood in the place of the Tarkaan's house. The rooms were filled with enough riches to last a thousand lifetimes. "Aslan" Anya thought to herself. "How!" the Tarkaan shrieked. "How did you do it? You cheated again, didn't you?" Anya tried to protest, but Kuddish would have none of it.

"Into the dungeon you shall go!" he shrieked, and marched up to the dungeon door. But it wouldn't open. He let go of Anya's hair to try with both hands, and, as if the door was merely waiting for this small gesture, the door opened with ease. But instead of steps leading to the dungeons, a huge black chasm yawned at the doorway, and Kuddish Tarkaan, known as the Troll behind his back, somehow lost his footing and fell inside. And for all I know, he is still falling, for Anya never heard him hit the ground.

Anya turned around, and realised that, for the first time in ten years, she was free. But what should she do? Where would she go? As she was wondering this, a golden statue of a lion, which had been sitting inconspicuously in the corner of the room, came to life and became the golden lion himself, Aslan. "Aslan!" Anya cried, and began to run to him with her arms stretched out. But suddenly she stopped short. "I…I am sorry, Aslan," she said in a small voice. "I did not believe you as I should have." The Great Lion drew her to him with his eyes. "It has been forgotten, dear one," he said. "And now, all this is yours."

Anya's eyes widened. "Mine? But, Aslan…surely…" "What?" the Lion asked, his eyes smiling. "Did you really think I built all this for Kuddish to enjoy?" Anya smiled, and looked around the room. But when she looked back at Aslan he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2: The Gardener

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own this, I know it, you know it, we all know it. I only own the second verse of the second bit of song. That is all I can take credit for. Thank you. _

* * *

Anya spent a year liberating her province from the iron vice of the Calormenes. She made alliances with Archenland and Narnia, and, with their help, and the help of not only her own people, but the Mylti and the Sileancians as well, she freed her province from the Calormene empire. During this time, word spread of a beautiful young princess, living unmarried in a fabulously luxurious palace, and so young suitors came in their hundreds, wanting to marry her. But Anya never found among them one that she could really care for, and so would send them away with perhaps a few priceless trinkets for their pains.

And every evening, Anya liked to sit on her balcony, and look down at the courtyard below, and to watch the sun set. This evening, however, she was not alone. For, down in the courtyard, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, the young gardener was hard at work. He was singing to pass the time, and Anya thought that perhaps his voice was the most perfect in all the world. So she sat completely still, and listened as he sang snatches of an old Lithosan tune;

_Saw you not my lady_

_Out in the garden there_

_Shaming the rose and lilly_

_For she is twice as fair_

_Surely you heard my lady_

_Go down the garden singing_

_Silencing all the songbirds_

_And setting the alley's ringing_

Presently, the young gardener felt he was being watched, and so he looked up. He never quite saw who it was that was watching him, for Anya immediately hurried indoors. The young gardener just smiled, and turned back to his gardening.

For the next week, Anya was too shy to venture out onto the balcony at twilight. But she would sit by the door, and listen to the young gardener singing. Eventually Anya discovered that his name was Corann. Perhaps Anya would never have said anything, if, one evening as she sat by the balcony door, she heard Corann sing something new;

_Though I am nothing to her_

_Though she does rarely look at me_

_And though I could never woo her_

_I love her til I die_

_If only she knew I love her_

_If she could only see me_

_If she could only hear me_

_She'd come to the balcony_

Anya all but jumped with shock. But within seconds she regained some form of composure, took a deep breath, and walked out onto the balcony. And there in the courtyard, in the dim, purple light of dusk, amid all the spring-time blooms, stood Corann. He was grinning from ear to ear. Anya blushed slightly, and smiled. "Did you like it?" he asked anxiously. "Yes," Anya replied, still with a shy smile on her face. "How did you know I was there?" she asked presently. "One of your ladies-in-waiting is my sister," Corann replied cheekily. "Oh," Anya said, for want of something to say.

Over the months to come, awkward first meetings turned to all-night conversations, until finally, the happy pair were engaged. The entire province was overjoyed at the news, though there were some old women who would say that a gardener was not fit to marry their princess. But then their friends would remind them that their princess was once the orphan slave of a Tarkaan, and all reservations about the match would disappear, for they were indeed a fine pair. Some ladies-in-waiting even boasted to have heard the two singing a duet in the parlour one rainy Wednesday afternoon, though as no one had ever actually heard Anya sing, this was never proved.

Meanwhile, amid the gossip and the rumours, the wedding preperations were in full swing. Dancers needed to be hired, and there seemed always to be a never ending procession of merchants, tailors and cooks coming in and out of the palace. Corann and Anya determined that, in keeping their alliances in the North strong, they should like Narnian fauns to be their musicians and strong Archenland wine should flow freely. In order to see that all these errands were properly carried out, Corann decided to travel to the Northern lands himself.

"Must you go?" Anya asked, forlornly, as Corann prepared to set out on his travels. The gardener-turned-Prince laughed good-naturedly, and cupped Anya's chin in his hands. "Come my love, there is no need to worry like this," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back before you know it." "Will you?" Anya asked in a small voice. Corann wrapped his betrothed up in a hug. "Of course," he assured her. "Good," Anya replied. "Then I shall count the minutes until you come home." Corann laughed again, and Anya kissed his cheek. "Promise me no one else will kiss your cheek," she said, still worried. "Darling," Corann said, mounting his horse. "I swear with everything that I have." Then he rode off, and left Anya feeling rather alone.

* * *

_**A/N: **Well, there's chapter two done. Rather sweet, if I do say so myself. What do you all think? Stay tuned for Chapter Three! _


	3. Chapter 3: The Search

_**A/N: **The plot thickens! Bit shorter than previous chapters, but more goings-on. Oh, and keep your eyes peeled for a cheeky reference to something in 'The Horse and His Boy'. There's also a couple of nods to 'Til We Have Faces' (C.S. Lewis's adaptation of the Greek legend of Cupid and Psyche). _

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own this. I'm not brilliant like C.S. Lewis was. Now that that has been established...ON WITH THE STORY!_

* * *

Minutes became hours. Hours became days. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. But still, Corann did not return. And with each passing minute, Anya became more and more worried, until, at last, three months after she last saw her beloved, Anya cried "I cannot take it anymore!" and decided to go in search of him. She appointed Corann's sister, Istra as Regent in her absence, and set off, heading North.

A week later, she found herself staring at the castle of King Lune of Archenland. She was about to tie her horse to the hook in the castle wall, when the castle gates opened, and there stood the King himself, smiling and laughing heartily. "My dear Anya!" he exclaimed, a merry smile on his face. "Hello your Majesty," she replied with a bow. The King chuckled and waved his hand. "Just Lune, please, my dear. You yourself are also royalty, after all." Anya nodded obligingly. "Now," Lune said. "Tie your horse up, and we shall discuss your business here in Archenland." Anya moved to do so. "Oh," she said with surprise. "The ring seems to be missing." The king came over and studied the hook in the wall. "So it is, my dear," Lune agreed. "Well, bring your horse inside, and I'll sort something out. And I must remember to do something about that hook too," he added as an afterthought.

Once inside the castle, Anya told the good King Lune her tale. "Corann?" Lune asked, looking thoughtful. "I'm sorry Anya, but we've not seen him since your last visit." The Princess nodded sadly. "Do try Cair Paravel," Lune said kindly, giving her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "He may have gone there first, and I hear they have had some problems with floods lately. There may not have been a safe pass."

And so it was that, a day or two later, Anya found herself walking through the orchard at Cair Paravel. Suddenly, from behind a tree, leapt King Edmund, a book in one hand and a mostly-eaten apple in the other. "Anya!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What brings you to these parts? Oh, apple?" he asked, throwing away his apple core, and reaching for another from the branch above. "Err, no, thanks," Anya replied, somewhat subdued. "Pity," Edmund said, inspecting the apple. "It looks a treat. Oh well." He shrugged, and began to walk into Cair Paravel through a side gate. Anya, meanwhile, was lost in her thoughts, and didn't notice. "Anya," the young King of Narnia said, waving his hand in front of her face. "Are you coming?" Anya was roused from her thoughts, smiled sheepishly, and followed him inside.

A few minutes later, Edmund walked into a parlour, Anya in tow. The High King was pouring over maps at one end of a long table, and at the other end of the room was Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, who seemed in the middle of a discussion. "Hie Ho, Family," declared Edmund good-naturedly as he entered. "We have a guest. Apple?" he asked, tossing the fruit to Peter, who caught it and began polishing it on his shirt. "Anya!" cried Susan and Lucy, rushing over to give the Princess a hug. "Good to see you again, Anya," Peter said, taking a bite of his apple. "What brings you here?" he asked, mouth full. "Manners, brother," Susan scolded with a smile.

Anya told them her tale, and the four sovereigns looked thoughtful. But none of them had seen him. "Have you seen King Lune?" Peter asked. "We've had a bit of flooding recently. He may have got caught trying to cross the Winding Arrow." His siblings all nodded. Anya just nodded slowly, trying to hold back her tears, and made to leave. Lucy gave her another, comforting hug. "I'm sure he's alright," she said, with a reassuring smile. As Anya began to ride south again, she couldn't help thinking how underrated Lucy's beauty was when in comparison with her sister's.

Before she began the long ride home, Anya decided to visit the Stone Table, in the hope that that sacred place could offer her some comfort. But as she dismounted from her horse, she found the place no more comforting than anywhere else she had been. "Aslan!" she cried out, before sinking to the ground in tears. Presently, she heard a warm, gentle, familiar voice say "you called me, daughter?" There, before her, stood the King of Kings, Aslan himself! But all she could do was nod. The great Lion walked towards her, and breathed on her and let her sink her face into his mane and cry. "Come, Anya," Aslan said finally. "You must be strong." "Strong?" Anya asked, confused. "Yes," came the reply. "Things are going to get a little harder, but they will be much better thereafter. Come, ride on my back."

Anya knew better than to disobey him, so she hitched up her skirts and climbed on. "Hold tight," Aslan warned, before turning briskly and galloping away at such a pace that even the fastest steam engine in the world could not have kept up with them. And to Anya it felt as though they were flying, but then, abruptly, they really were flying! "Don't look down," Aslan cautioned, though his voice was playful and his eyes laughed. Finally, he set down on the edges of an annexed Calormene province much further South than Anya had ever thought existed.

Anya slid off the Lion's back and shook herself a little. "Where are we?" she asked. "All in good time," Aslan replied. "Reach into your pockets, child, and pull out what you find in them." And a search of her pockets revealed three small, peculiarly shaped boxes. Anya held one up to her ear and shook it, but she could hear nothing. "What are they, Aslan?" she asked curiously. "Inside are three gifts," Aslan replied. "But use them wisely, Anya. And now, I bid you farewell," but before he had finished speaking, the great Lion had already disappeared from sight.

Anya looked about herself, and saw a village nearby, so she began to make her way towards it. Before she had got very far, however, she heard the sound of horses, walking behind her. She turned around and, for one horrible moment, she thought she was staring at Kuddish! But, as she kept staring at the rider, she saw that it was not a man who rode this horse, but a woman. The woman was, of course, Kuddish's daughter, Tarkheena Redival. She had married the ruler of the province in which Anya now stood, and assumed the throne after the death of her husband ten years ago.

Anya shrank back from the road, lest the Tarkheena should see her, and that was when she noticed that Redival was not alone. A few paces behind her rode a young man. Oh – could it be? "Corann," Anya called out, a little uncertainly. The young man turned to look at her. "Oh! It is you!" Anya exclaimed with joy. "Where have you been? Let's go home!" "I'm sorry," Corann replied, his voice sounding very strange. "You must have mistaken me for someone else." "What are you talking about?" Anya asked, feeling as though she had been slapped. "I don't know you. I'm sorry," Corran replied, sounding as though he was truly sorry, then urged his horse on.


	4. Chapter 4: The Gift of Silk

_**A/N: **Thanks for everyone's lovely comments! I really do apprectiate them! I shall now try to live up to the praise you've given me! _

_**Dislcaimer: **I own the line of slaves on the side of the road. Nothing more. C.S. Lewis was brilliant; I am just some poor sod trying to snap up the crumbs that have fallen from his proverbial table. Gilber and Sullivan own the lyrics._

* * *

Anya was devastated. She'd searched, she'd traveled, and for what? For nothing, that's what. Her beloved didn't even remember her. But then she remembered the breath of Aslan, and felt a little hope. "Surely he wouldn't have carried me all this way for nothing," thought she to herself, and with that small comfort in mind, she set off towards the nearby town.

No sooner had she passed the gates, than she passed a group of people, all clamped in irons, sitting by the road. All of them were as fair as Anya. "What are you all doing here?" she asked them. "Got caught," said one. "For running away," finished another. "Oh," Anya replied, sympathetically. "What can you tell me about the Tarkheena who rules this place?" "The Queen! The Queen!" the shakled slaves cried in sort of sing-song voices. "She is greedy," the first whispered. "So very, very greedy!" the others whispered in agreement. The second looked about himself before continuing the fable. "She is cruel," he whispered. "So very, very cruel," his comrades agreed in hushed voices. "She has magic," a third whispered, though his comrades whispered "magic" along with him, as though they were in a pantomime.

"What about the young man that is with her?" Anya asked now. "The Ornamen! The Ornamen!" the slaves whispered amongst each other. "The what?" Anya asked. The fourth slave beckoned her closer. "The Queen is greedy for trinkets, gold, and men," he began in an ominous whisper. "She thinks she is awfully clever in callin' 'em Ornamen. She catches 'em, she does, and puts 'em under a spell so they think she's fairest they ever saw with their eyes, and then marries 'em." Anya shivered. "I see," she said, before realizing that her voice was taking on the same whispered, ominous sing-song tone of the slaves. She shook herself. "Thank you, you have been a tremendous help." Anya got up, dusted off her skirts, and began walking towards the castle of Redival. "A help! A help!" the slaves declared with glee. "We's been a help!"

At last, Anya reached the castle gate. It was guarded by two Calormene soldiers. Anya moved to open the gate. "What do you think you're doing, slave?" demanded the soldier on Anya's left. "I'm…not a slave," Anya said indignantly. "Oh, not a slave, is it?" jeered the soldier on Anya's right. "What are you then?" "A…a princess." Anya went horribly red, as the words sounded so feeble coming out of her mouth. "Oh, a princess," laughed the first soldier. "Right. What country do you rule, my lady?" he asked with an exaggerated bow. "Lithosa," Anya replied, feeling even more humiliated. "Well," said the second solider, with a look at his comrade. "You can't get in. We don't let princesses in at this hour. Be off with you!" And he waved his hand, and that, it appeared, was that.

Anya walked a little way away, before she remembered the gifts! Surely it would be alright to use just one. She opened the first box, and pulled out fold after fold of the purest silk. She marched up the gate once more, carrying the precious bundles. "Let me in," she demanded. "I have a gift for the queen." The guards chuckled a little, but they opened the gate, and one escorted her to the throne room.

The throne room was positively the widest, longest room Anya had ever been inside. A bright red carpet ran up the centre, and on either side was a line of slaves. They had to stand there, perfectly still, day by day, for as long as Redival was in the room. Anya saw Redival's eyes spark greed when she saw the endless folds of silk, even though she was at the other end of the room. "What is that you've got there?" the self-proclaimed queen demanded. "Silk, madam," Anya replied timidly, walking briskly down the long line of slaves. "I want it," the queen said greedily. "Give it to me." Anya paused, thoughtfully. "I would if I could, your Majesty," Anya replied, assuming an air of youthful innocence. "But this silk is special silk. It cannot simply be given. It must be exchanged." "What is your price, girl?" Redival asked warily. "A night with Corann," Anya replied, still smiling in such a way that Redival could not suspect her of any secret design. Redival turned to one of her attendants. "Who is Corann?" she hissed at him. "M-m-my lady," he stammered in reply. "That is the name of the b-b-b-barbarian, your new Ornamen." Redival paused in thought for a moment, all the while staring greedily at the enormous pile of silk Anya held in her arms. The wheels in her head began to turn. "Very well then," she cackled. "One night only, mind." Anya nodded. "Oh of course, your Majesty," she said, curtsying.

That night, Anya was shown into the room where her beloved was waiting. But - oh horror! - he wasn't even awake. He was fast asleep. Anya tried as hard as she could to wake him, but all her efforts were in vain; for the evil Redival had slipped a potion into his wine that caused him to fall into a deep sleep. Anya still stayed there all night, singing to the sleeping man.

_Sorry her lot who loves too well_

_Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly_

_Sad are the sighs that own the spell_

_Uttered by eyes that speak to plainly_

_Sorry her lot who loves to well_

_Heavy the sorry that bows the head_

_When love is alive but hope is dead!_

Eventually, the night passed, and Anya left Redival's castle, dejected. The first gift was wasted!


	5. Chapter 5: The Gift of Gold

_**A/N: **Well well well...what on earth could happen to the poor girl now? All shall be revealed! _

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own this, you know it, I know it, we all know it, moving on. Lyrics belong to Rob Thomas._

* * *

All that day Anya pondered what on earth she could do, to try and break the spell put on Corann. But all she could think of nothing better than to offer the second gift, just like the first. Perhaps this time she would not be tricked. So, once more, she walked into Redival's throne room.

"What is it now, girl?" Redival asked. She was wearing splendid new clothes, made from the silk Anya had given her the day before. Anya brought forth the second box and opened it. She held it high above her head, and out poured such a heap of gold coins, that by the time the box was finally empty, it was taller than Anya herself. Redival's eyes flashed greed, and she rushed over to dig her hands into the pile of cool metal. "Same price as before, girl?" she asked greedily. "No," replied Anya firmly. "You tricked me last time. This time he must be awake." "Oh, of course, of course," the evil queen cackled, showering herself in gold.

But that night, as Anya was shown into Corann's chamber, she discovered that Redival had lied. And so Anya knelt by Corann's bedside and wept. But when she had finished crying, she sat up, dried her eyes, and began to sing, just like she had the previous night.

_I am the white dove for a solider_

_Ever marching as to war_

_I would give my life to save you_

_I stand guarding at your door_

_I give you all that I am_

_And I breathe where you breathe_

_Let me stand where you stand_

_With all that I am_

But finally, tragically, morning came. And so Anya kissed Corann's cheek, and walked forlornly from the room. The second gift, wasted.

* * *

Or was it? A few hours later, Corann found himself walking along the battlements of Redival's castle, when he thought he heard voices calling out to him. "Corann! Corann!" they cried. The young man looked around, before realising that the cries came from the prisoners in their cells below him. He could see their heads poking out of the wall, in an effort to talk to him. "What is it?" he asked them. "You are a fool, sir!" cried one. "A fool! A fool!" the others agreed. "What? Why?" Corann asked in surprise.

"The past two nights, there has been a girl in your room," began the first prisoner. "And you lay there fast asleep!" finished another. "All night long she stays there," added a third. "And she sings, and she weeps," said a fourth. "Oh, the singing! The weeping!" the prisoners cried dramatically. "What business is it of mine? I am engaged to the queen," Corann stammered. "You fool! You fool!" the prisoners cried. Corann was deeply troubled, and so he hurried away.

But he couldn't help becoming a little curious. Who was this girl? And why did the mention of her quicken his heartbeat? Would she come back tonight? Would he ever know? He knew that the past two nights he had slept deeper than he ever had. He had assumed the queen was right; that drinking a small goblet of wine before bed would help one sleep. But…what if he was wrong? What if she had put something _in _the wine?

He had to know.


	6. Chapter 6: The Gift of Jewels

_**A/N: **The last gift! Will it be wasted like the others? Bit shorter than some chapters, but there now, it's all good!_

_**Disclaimer: **No. I don't own anything. (The lyrics belong to Evanescence.) _

* * *

Meanwhile, Anya was debating, back and forth, what she should do. Should she use the final gift, to see her beloved one last time? Or should she save it, and bide her time? At last she came to a decision. And so she walked through the castle gate and headed towards the throne room. She would see Corann this last time, and then return home. There was nothing else for her here, and she had no reason to stay.

"She's back!" Redival squealed with greed, as Anya entered the throne room. "What have you brought for me this evening, girl? More silk? More gold?" "No, my lady," Anya answered, bringing forth the third – and last – box. Once more, she held it high above her head, and tipped out its contents. Out poured jewels, jewels of every kind and colour, jewels of every shape, all of the highest quality and all sparkling. And by the time they had finished pouring out onto the ground, the pile was _twice _as tall as Anya! Redival went wild with greed, and rushed over to touch them. "Same price as before then?" she cackled. "He _must _be awake this time, my lady!" Anya demanded.

But, when at last she was shown into Corann's chamber, it seemed Redival had lied to her again. There, beside his bedside, was another goblet – the same as had been there the last two nights, and Corann was fast asleep. Anya wept. And, as before, when she had finished weeping, she began to sing.

_Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me_

_And, dear my love, haven't you longed to be free?_

_I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you_

_When at sweet night you are my own_

While she was singing, she hadn't noticed Corann began to stir. So she jumped when she heard his voice join hers.

_We're leaving here tonight_

_There's no need to tell anyone_

_They'll only hold us down_

_So by the morning light_

_We'll be halfway to anywhere_

_Where love is more than just your name_

They stopped singing. Anya smiled. Corann smiled, as though he still didn't quite remember her. Anya leaned in, and kissed his cheek. Something was triggered in Corann's mind. "Stop!" he cried urgently. "Why?" Anya asked, confused. "I…I promised someone…." The memory was there, but Corann couldn't quite get a good glimpse of it. Redival's magic was weakening. Anya laughed. "Me!" she said. "You promised me!" With that, the spell was broken.

For you see, Redival had, as usual, given Corann a goblet of wine to drink before he went to sleep. And Corann had pretended to drink, but really, none had so much as touched his lips. And so Redival had left the room, and Corann had sat up, determined to meet this mysterious stranger who had been visiting him each night. But he had had a full day, and against his will, had fallen asleep - a naturally sleep, not a magical one which none can be woken from. He explained all this to Anya, and then the happy pair quickly found themselves shimmying down the castle wall, and running out of the town.

_Forget this life, come with me, don't look back you're safe now_

Redival, meanwhile, was in her treasure room, sorting her new jewels into categories and marveling at her good fortune. Every now and then she would stop and look down at her splendid new clothes. "Silly girl," she chuckled to herself.

_Unlock your heart, drop your guard, no one's left to stop you now_

Anya and Corann stopped suddenly. For there, in the middle of the road, stood Aslan. "Quickly, on my back," he said. "There isn't much time." They obeyed, and soon found themselves flying back towards the castle. Anya and Corann looked at each other worriedly. "There is nothing to fear, my children," Aslan said, almost laughing. "I simply have some unfinished business with the Tarkheena." Anya and Corann found themselves outside Redival's treasure chamber. Aslan drew out a great breath, and the finery of the three gifts disappeared – even the silk. Corann and Anya laughed at the sight of the wicked queen in her underclothes, and of course, she heard them laughing, and was quite alarmed to find them sitting atop a great lion outside her window.

She jumped up and rushed to the window, shaking her fist at them. "Curse you! Curse you both!" she cried. "And you! Demon! False god of the barbarians! May the bolt of Tash fall on you from above! May –" But she never got to finish. For Aslan shook his mane (gently, lest his two passengers should fall off) and her nose became bigger, and her arms and legs became shorter and her feet and hands shrunk up all together and her fingers and toes were squished together to form trotters, and her body became huge and swollen and she shrunk a good deal in size. And the young prince and princess of Lithosa couldn't help but laugh when they realized that Aslan had turned Redival into a pig!

Then Aslan turned himself about, and began heading back to Lithosa.


End file.
